


Show Yourself

by ussgallifrey



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Memories, Past Relationship(s), Reunions, Trauma, enhanced!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ussgallifrey/pseuds/ussgallifrey
Summary: The healing process takes time. With memories surging in and out of focus, Bucky still has one piece missing from the puzzle of his past.Inspired by the song "Show Yourself" from Frozen 2
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Show Yourself

The brownstone stands tall and unassuming beyond a veil of rain. The address had been checked and doubled checked with the torn-off piece of paper in his pocket, dotted by a rough scratch of letters and numbers in a blaringly familiar penmanship. The bustle of the street is lessened by the weather but still remains strong for a Saturday afternoon.

Heavy droplets bead up on the rim of his hat, the cold seeps through the secondhand jacket and soaks the hoodie underneath. His joints ache and his body is chilled, but not by the late November rain.

Just there, across the street and up a small flight of steps lies a future. A future that had been frozen by a failed mission in Austria - one that he can only hazily recall. A name had been underlined twice above the given address. It felt… familiar, but not enough to invoke a memory. Bucky just knew that this was important, a missing puzzle piece in the story.

With hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans - both for warmth and to keep the metal hand from view - he stares up at the sweet-red bricks and large black-framed windows. Tries to imagine a life inside, a story to be told.

He doesn’t know why that name, so soft on the tip of his tongue, calls to him. A light on the stormy sea. A beacon through unbelievable turmoil. It’s the remnants of a hazy dream, one that he found himself reaching for before facing the harsh reality of another day alone. But there’s something there, calling out to his heart.

Steve had given him the address with the promise that it might spark some memories. It was all a process right now, slowly regaining a lifetime that had been forcefully repressed for so long. Sometimes it felt familiar, like riding a bike after a long winter spell. Other times, it was like trying on another person’s clothes - nothing fit right and nothing sparked a proper reaction. It would take time, he knew that.

And yet…

Looking up at the apartment with the soft-glow of yellow lamps and an autumn wreath attached to the front door, he thinks this one might bust the floodgates.

“_We knew her,_” Steve had said, hands folded carefully on the table in front of him, gauging his reaction.

There was a break to his voice, a tiny quiver of something that made Bucky think there was more to that story than what was being fully presented to him at the time.

So, with nothing more than a piece of paper and a trembling amount of curious energy, he finds himself standing in the middle of a downpour - unable to move from his spot by the small Ash tree. Something deep inside, unknown and severely underused, is singing. He wants to stride across the street, knock on the door with confidence. But that’s not him, not anymore.

“_I can call her, if you want -_ ”

That thought had made Bucky’s stomach turn with a sickly sweet lurch of creeping anxiety.

Instead, he pocketed the address and set off in search of it on his own. Traveling down streets he hadn’t seen in over seventy years. Some things sparked a sense of recognition, others had changed with the decades and were completely foreign to him.

This here though, while unrecognizable seems… safe. And he hasn’t even had the courage to walk up the gray stone steps yet.

With the streak and flash of a passing delivery truck, Bucky’s gaze is drawn up to the second-floor window. A face, blurred by the rain, stares out into the dreary street. Down at him, the only person standing out in the weather.

A curtain quickly covers the window and he makes his move. A sense of building tension grows tight in his belly as he reaches the stoop. He’s come this far. Something calling out to him in the distance. Right as he’s about to step up, the front door opens.

Haloed by the glow of a hallway light, a figure comes into view. Pinched brows and concern dotting her eyes as she presses her fist tight against her mouth, slouching back against the doorframe.

A worn memory, well-practiced from a life long lost, has him pulling his hat off and tucking it under his arm. The rain beats down on his head and he can’t find it in himself to care. Slowly, one step and then another. And then he’s in front of the open door. That’s when it hits him - when he can finally see you clearly under the awning, safe from the ongoing storm.

Red lips and high curls, a stiff green dress and a broken heel. A dark wool coat that smelled like vanilla, blushed cheeks, excited whispers hushed by the snow. A laugh, sweet as honey cake and just as warm. A kiss, a hand held in his, a ring. 

But… but it’s not right. You… you look almost the same. Same eyes, same tears threatening to spill over.

You push off from the frame, staggering towards him with wide eyes and a sense of wonder, “Bucky?”

Your voice filters through the noise of disjointed memories - through the false planted ideas and the barely-there whispers of a past - coats them all with molasses with just one simple word.

His movements are predetermined by his past self. A hand steadies you, the right one, gripping your forearm, pulling you closer.

Vanilla fills his senses, drowns him in a world lost to time. Soothes the burn, the chill, the ache. Had you always had that power over him? 

Your hands startle him as they slowly cup his face. Not a sign of trepidation as you study him. The first willing touch he’s experienced in a very long time. On instinct alone, he would have pulled away - fearing a blow. But with your eyes trained on him and that voice, he just melts into it. Craving something deep in his bones. It sings of something he can’t yet name.

The fortress crumbles. The stoic broken man shatters by a single embrace. Decades of forced control and containment has nothing on you. The iron gates shatter and you flood to his very core. Light waves surge across his skin, illuminate his heart and break the dam.

Cradling his face, as though he’s a precious gem - a thing to behold. His stubble scratches against your fingers. He should have shaved, should have prepared. If he knew what was waiting for him here today, he would have done so much more. But instead, he’s soaked to the bone and the words are bottled up with a heavy cork.

“I,” your voice cracks with the weight of the situation. His hands find your waist and it all seems so natural, a body on autopilot.

With a shaky breath, you try again. 

“I thought I would never see you again,” your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Moving in slow motion, Bucky pulls you to him. Hands wrapping around your back as you collapse against his chest with a heavy sob.

A moment passes, lost in the patter of raindrops and the chill wind rustling down the street. And then you pull back, wiping helplessly at the tears that had fallen.

“Do you, uh, do you know who I am?”

He takes you in. Hair styled differently - more modern than he can recall. Clothes simple and equally modern. And then there, on your finger, a slim gold band.

His voice is rough as he manages out, “I think I’m starting to.”

You envelop him in an instant, hands wrapped tight around his neck. And he accepts it, your weight against him comforting more than anything.

Memories ebb and flow as you snuggle into his neck with a shuddering breath. You look the same as you did then, barely aged a day since… 

How long had you waited? Never knowing he was alive all this time. Had Steve told you or had you recognized him by that horrible news coverage from DC?

“I always hoped that you were,” you trail off, words held tight in your throat as your lips ghost the bare patch of skin on his neck.

Pulling back, your gaze is steady and well-worn.

“I couldn’t believe that you had died. Because you promised me, do you remember?”

Your eyes shine with hopeful pleading.

Warmth seeps through his veins as he takes your left hand in his. Water droplets bead up on the smooth skin there as he turns your hand palm down. Eyes trained on the golden band gleaming against your finger.

“How… how are you still…?” He draws his gaze up to your face.

You leave your hand in his, a sign of trust, perhaps? 

“I know you have a lot of questions - I do too. But I have secrets, Buck. Cold secrets deep inside me. I’m not that girl you left behind on the docks.”

His eyes don’t waver as he licks his lips. “That’s good, I’m not exactly the same person either.”

Your breath hitches as another wave threatens to spill. “There was never anyone else, James Barnes. Just you.”

His heart soars and aches all at once.

“You could’ve had the pick of them, sweetheart,” it comes out easy and distantly familiar. 

A shy smile grazes your plump lips, “Never would’ve compared to you.”

It all comes surging up at once. Moments running through his head of you - only you. He didn’t even know he was waiting for you all this time. But now that he’s here on your doorstep with your hand in his, it feels like a lifetime of waiting has cultivated into this single instance. The answer he didn’t know he was looking for. The final key to the locked memory door.

And then your lips brush against his cheek, just chaste and faint. Your heated gaze shines like the sun, chasing the dark clouds from view and stilling the rain.

He thinks of lazy summer days on a fire escape, trading kisses and tempting caresses. Of a girl with candy-sweet rose-petal lips and a playful gleam in her eyes.

“Will you come in? Think we have some catching up to do.”

And he feels it, that first true smile on his face in what feels like a century. It’s a little out of practice, but he thinks he’ll get there now. 

Bucky lets you lead him inside, promises on your lips and a story begging to come tumbling out.

And somehow, he thinks this is what he’s truly been waiting for. He just didn’t know it at the time, couldn’t have imagined it to begin with. But you opened the door, showed yourself and all that you had left to give - to him, of all people. This, this is home. He is found

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on my [Tumblr](https://ussgallifreyfics.tumblr.com).


End file.
